


How It Started

by kally77



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kally77/pseuds/kally77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post AtS season 6. A vamp and a not-quite-human guy walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Started

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/gifts).



Afterwards, when Connor woke up to find the arms and legs of an octopus-like vampire wrapped around him, when he realized he didn’t regret a thing and wasn’t worried about what another vampire would say, when he decided he could get used to this and wondered how hard it would be to convince Spike to leave his suite and move in with him, he tried to figure out how it had all started. 

His hand stroking Spike’s hair absentmindedly, he unraveled the events of the previous night. The sex part had been rather spectacular – at least, he thought so, not that he had much experience in that regard, especially with a guy. He was kind of proud he hadn’t freaked out at the guy thing actually. The part before the sex though had been… confusing. All the pieces fit together and led to this moment, he could see that now, but at the time it had all been just another night, just another post-patrol drink with Spike.

Maybe it had begun with that rather sloppy kiss. Or maybe with Connor’s stake and Spike’s laugh. A bumped shoulder and a redhead’s pouty lips. A flash of jealousy. One beer too many. The fine little lines at the corners of Spike’s eyes when he smiled. Two feet pressed together. Connor’s hard-on when they had finished patrolling. 

Maybe it had all started the first time they had met in hell, and each step after that had brought them closer to this ending. 

Or was it a beginning?

~

“Did you argue with your old man?”

The question came out of nowhere, and startled Connor enough that, when his hand went down, his aim was off, a couple of inches to the right of the vampire’s heart. 

The vamp looked down at the stake protruding from his chest, then back at Connor, giving him a look that was somewhere between disgusted and accusing. “This hurts! You could at least—”

Swallowing back the unexpected ‘sorry’ that was rising to his lips, Connor pulled the stake out, and struck again. This time, the vampire collapsed into ashes at his feet. He turned around to glare at Spike.

“What the heck? Are you _trying_ to get me killed?”

Spike waved his hand dismissively. The cigarette stuck between two fingers drew red lines on Connor’s night vision. “Fledgling like that, you could take him in your sleep. With a hand tied behind your back.”

That was as close to a compliment as Spike ever gave, and Connor started grinning before he remembered what Spike had said to distract him. 

“Why would you think I argued with him?” he asked, frowning, as he shook ashes off his khakis. He winced when his wrist brushed against his crotch. Thank god for loose pants and long shirts.

Spike started walking toward the opening of the cul-de-sac and Connor easily fell into step with him. They turned left without needing to talk. They both knew where they were going.

“Because,” Spike said around his cigarette, “he’s been glaring at me every chance he gets and muttering that he barely even sees you anymore and it’s my fault.” He sounded utterly unconcerned, and even chuckled a little. “Granted, that last bit is an old refrain, but if you’re just patrolling with me to drive him batty, I can show you more effective ways to annoy the hell out of him.”

Connor snorted quietly. “I bet you could. But no, I’m not trying to piss him off.”

And he really wasn’t. In fact, things had been pretty good with Angel lately. They were certainly better than they had been before… _everything_. There were still a few touchy subjects but they tacitly avoided those, and even Angel’s insistence that Connor should go back to school full-time had started to fade. He let Connor’s parents – his _other_ parents – argue with him about that.

Spike’s questioning eyebrow asked for more, and Connor shrugged. “It’s just more fun to patrol with someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m breakable.”

Laughing, Spike bumped his shoulder against Connor’s. “The Papa Bear act _is_ getting a bit old,” he agreed. “According to him, you’re not old enough to have a drink after patrol.” He turned a bright grin to Connor. “Up for a nightcap, then?”

Connor grinned back and nodded. They made their way to the usual bar, where the waitress had only asked for Connor’s ID once – and only to know his name.

He was _up_ , all right. Lately, he’d been up – hard, and aching – after every patrol, which was just one more reason why he didn’t care so much to patrol with Angel. He was pretty sure that, despite his best efforts at dressing to obfuscate, Spike had noticed, more than once. Some nights, he seemed much too amused. But Spike never said anything, probably because he understood the thrill of the hunt and all that came with it; he was hard, too, after most of their patrols, not that Connor ever commented about that either. 

Connor really, but _really_ didn’t want to know if his father was affected the same way when he patrolled, and he _really_ didn’t want Angel to know how much he enjoyed the hunt these days. Once, it had been a duty, drilled into him ad nauseam, something he had been born to do, something he could pride himself on doing well. Now, he was still happy to be doing something good, but he also had fun. It was like a game – and some nights, when Spike was in a playing mood, it _was_ a game. The change was nice. 

The company wasn’t bad either.

~

“I think you’ve got a bite.”

His brow knitting in confusion, Connor set his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Huh? I’ve got a what?”

Spike sat back into the booth, stretching his legs beneath the table. His foot nudged Connor’s. Connor pushed back with a little huff. Spike wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but between the swagger, the coat and the sheer pushiness, he always seemed to take as much space as two or three persons.

“Redhead at the bar,” Spike said like he hadn’t noticed Connor was trying to cling to whatever space he had carved out for himself. A smirk fluttered on his lips, just on this side of a leer, when he glanced toward the bar again. “She keeps making eyes at you. She looks pretty good, too, especially in that dress.”

Connor forced himself not to follow Spike’s gaze. It probably was just another round of teasing. In the past couple of weeks, Spike had been having a lot of fun pointing out girls to Connor when they were at the bar, or just walking in the street. He’d comment on their… assets, and then look at Connor to see if he’d managed to get a blush out of him. It seemed to amuse him to no end when he did. Connor refused to even answer anymore to any mention of a pretty girl. And if there was a bit too much heat in his cheeks, he could always blame it on the beer – of which he took another large swallow.

“Don’t drink so fast,” Spike chided, his smile deepening a little. “Only half-decent beer in town, you’ve got to savor it, pet. Make the good things last.”

Most of the time, it was easy to tell when Spike was making fun of him, one way or the other, because he sounded a bit like Connor did when he teased his sister. But when he smiled like this, with those barely there little lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, Connor could never tell if Spike was teasing or not. He could never tell what he thought.

Just in case Spike _was_ making fun of him, he finished his beer in one long swallow. He hadn’t even put it down yet that he was raising his free hand to catch the waitress’ attention.

“Or,” he told Spike with a grin of his own, “I can just order another one.”

The waitress approached and, as she always did, bent low to take Connor’s order, giving him a smile along with a plunging view into her rather generous décolleté. Spike always chuckled when she did that, the sound low and dirty; Connor’s dick always twitched.

~

“You know, this would be a lot more fun if you’d inherited your Da’s alcohol tolerance. We could switch to something a bit tastier than beers.”

Connor scowled at the two Spikes sitting across from him until they finally merged into one smirking idiot. Most of the time he didn’t mind so much being compared to his father. Once, he had hated it, but not anymore. When Spike did it, though, for some reason it always made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that he’d had one beer too many. 

“If you’re not having fun with me,” he snapped – or tried to; it was hard when the words were coming out slurred, “why don’t you go and find someone else?” He glanced toward the bar and easily found the redhead beauty there. “Oh wait, it’s _me_ she’s looking at. Too bad for you.”

When he looked back at Spike again, he found a frown directed at him. “Right,” Spike said, then gave an exasperated sigh. “Next time I’m cutting you off after the second glass. Come on, then, let’s get you back home.”

Spike started sliding out of the booth, but Connor crossed his arms on the table and refused to move. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he said, glaring at Spike. “And I don’t need you trying to set me up with every pretty girl you see. Is it a game for you? You’re too damn scared to start dating again so you just try to get your thrills by proxy?”

Standing next to the table and looking down at Connor, Spike had rarely looked so intimidating. He’d rarely looked so pissed, too.

“One thing is sure,” he drawled, “you can be just as blind and dim-witted as he is. And the brooding is no more attractive on you than it is on him.” He threw a couple of bills on the table. “Get a cab home and go to bed like a good boy, now. Daddy’s got to be worried.”

Without waiting for Connor’s reply – not that he knew what he could have replied that didn’t involve his fist and Spike’s nose – Spike strode away, his coat billowing behind him. Connor caught himself staring and forgetting to be angry. He kind of loved that coat. It looked cool, and it seemed pretty comfortable too. And the smell of leather was nice. Really nice. Not that Connor had ever liked it all that much before, it was just this coat.

A coat that was currently at the bar as Spike sat next to the redhead. Connor’s eyes narrowed as he watched him do the head tilt thing. It always made Spike look younger when he did that. Not that Connor had noticed.

The redhead laughed at something Spike said, throwing her head back and baring her throat. With the music and noise all around him, Connor couldn’t really hear her, but he was sure he could hear Spike’s laugh, all melted caramel and hot fudge. Sticky and sweet.

Lips pursed in annoyance – although why he would be annoyed was beyond him – Connor watched Spike gesture in an obvious offer for a drink. The redhead started with a bashful shake of her head, but when Spike’s hand grazed her bare shoulder, she inclined her head and smiled. Connor scowled at her, a flash of anger – and nothing more than anger – coursing through him. What an idiot! She was just a perfect example of why vampires were thriving in this town; no sense of self preservation whatsoever. Couldn’t she recognize the predator in Spike? Couldn’t she see that it was all an act, seduction and hunting both, honed over the course of a century? Every part had been practiced to perfection: the way Spike ‘accidentally’ brushed against her shoulder when he picked up his drink, or the way he set one foot next to hers on the bottom rung of her stool. The way he smiled. The way he laughed. The way he watched her so intently, like every word she said, as inane as it may be, was worth committing to memory. 

Exactly like he always watched Connor.

The revelation struck Connor with the gentleness one would expect from a speeding van, and having been hit by one of those, Connor recognized the feeling instantly. Funny how he suddenly had as many questions as he had had then. He could only hope it’d turn out as well as it had before.

Picking up the bills on the table with one hand and his empty glass with the other, he slipped out of the booth. He still felt a little lightheaded, but it had nothing to do anymore with that extra drink. He walked over to the bar and set his glass on the counter. Doing so, he bumped against the redhead’s shoulder. She turned an annoyed look toward him, but her gaze softened when she saw his sheepish smile.

“I am so, _so_ sorry,” he said, purposefully slurring the words. He lowered his eyes and batted his eyelashes a couple of times. “I think I’ve drunk too much.”

He let out a little giggle, and she followed suit, apparently forgetting Spike. Connor would have rolled his eyes at him if it hadn’t meant breaking the act.

“You should head on home, then,” she said, her fingers brushing against his wrist. “Although maybe you shouldn’t be alone…”

It was her turn to flutter her eyelashes, and it was all Connor could do not to snicker at the forced shyness in his own voice. “Well, I don’t live very far. Maybe you wouldn’t mind too much helping me get there?”

She slid off the high stool in one instant and curled an arm at his waist. “Of course not, baby. Come on, let’s go.”

Connor couldn’t resist, then. He glanced back at Spike and stuck his tongue out at him. Spike merely grinned and shook his head.

~

The stake, this time, went in cleanly. Connor might be (a little bit) drunk, but it took more than that to make him miss. The redhead just had time to look surprised before she dissolved into nothing. Connor shifted the stake to his left hand and brought the right one to his neck. He could feel the scratched skin there, but when he looked at his fingers, there was no blood on them.

Behind him, Spike laughed, then clapped. “So when did you figure it out?”

Connor turned around and eyed him warily. “Figure what out?”

“That she was a vamp, what else?”

Connor made the stake disappear up his sleeve and shrugged. “When I came to the bar, I suppose.”

Spike nodded as though he had expected as much. His eyes were sparkling when he said, “You do realize she only forgot I was there because you had warm blood to offer and I don’t, right?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Connor chuckled weakly. “Keep telling yourself that. I totally rock the ‘tipsy and helpless’ look. Any girl would have fallen for it.” He swallowed hard and added, more quietly now, “Or any guy.”

Spike blinked, so slowly that Connor could have sworn he was in a movie, and this was the slow-motion sequence. Soon, the music would start rising, and Spike would come closer, slide his fingers in Connor’s hair, and say something ridiculously romantic.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, kid.”

Or he’d just stand there, look at Connor like he had sprouted another head, and call him kid.

Maybe it was best to have revelations while not drunk, Connor thought as he turned away. His face felt on fire. He started walking down the alley.

“I thought I could be,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess I was wrong.”

Spike’s hand curling around his bicep stopped him mid-step.

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” Spike said quietly. “You do look pretty cute when you’re drunk.” 

He gently pushed at Connor’s arm until Connor was facing him again. His heart never beat this fast when he hunted. Spike’s hand slid up his arm and to his neck, then to the back of his head.

“Only when I’m drunk?” Connor asked, batting his eyelashes just once.

Spike smiled, and there was just enough light in the alley for Connor to see those little lines around his eyes. He leaned forward, wanting to taste them, but changed his mind halfway through and pressed his mouth to Spike’s.

He’d never kissed a guy before. He’d never even thought of kissing a guy before – or maybe just the once, to wonder what it’d be like, and whether it would be different. He’d thought a kiss between guys ought to be… harsher, maybe. More manly. Like a fight or something. And so he pushed his tongue inside Spike’s mouth, touched everywhere, fast and strong and kinda sloppy. Spike’s fingers tightened lightly on his hair and he pulled away.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said, and wow, a breathless vamp sounded really hot, “but you keep this up and I’ll start thinking you want more than a kiss.”

Connor blinked. Mentally assessed the situation – the cool night air and the adrenaline of feeling the redhead’s fangs at his throat had cleared his head pretty fast; his cock, on the other hand, was still throbbing. “What if I do want more?”

This time when Spike laughed, Connor kissed him, just lips on lips, just to feel the sound as well as hear it.

“I love when you laugh,” he whispered against Spike’s mouth, and somehow the word ‘love’ in association with Spike sounded even better than that laugh.

“Took you long enough to notice,” Spike said, just as quietly. 

Connor could only agree.


End file.
